Nut Job
by awordycontradiction
Summary: "I'm in love with a nut job."


**So I was GUSHING at the scene when Stiles said he was in love with Lydia... It was great, very natural and adorably frustrating for him. Oh, and THAT PRESENT? Yeah.. I did my own take on the episode, hope it wasn't too off track. I couldn't help myself. They deserved A SCENE. :)**

"_I'm in love with a nut job." _

After the words left my lips I couldn't help but look over across the pool at her. Lydia Martin was like my personal magnet, keeping me locked in for the bumpy ride ahead. She looked so sad, yet so unbelievably beautiful, not like I expected anything less. The dress she wore was skin tight, the many shades of gray that lined her dress in neat lines and patterns reminded me of how orderly her depression was, it signified how unstable yet careful she was. I knew there was something going on, and I wasn't stopping it, or trying to help her. It was very unlike me, but I didn't care. I took another swig of the punch she practically shoved down my throat the moment I set her present down, there was a bitter after taste but I couldn't make out which alcohol she was so creative in using. I didn't care either. This little juice just let the words I had been holding back slip out, so carelessly and free, like they were always meant to be said. _In love. _I was in love with Lydia Martin and I either had no more strength to deny it, or just enough strength to finally admit it. I looked away once her eyes met mine. They were so stormy, and filled with sheer panic. I wanted to march myself over there, comfort her, take her away and tell her everything, but I couldn't. It wasn't my secret to blab, just because Lydia Martin was losing her mind didn't necessarily mean it had anything to do with werewolves and that closet full of skeletons. Well, at least that is what I was going to continually tell myself. I took another swig.

The party was finally up to par, exactly what the birthday girl deserved. She even looked happy. She changed out of her extra gray skin and into a deep blue dress that made her look like a princess. It was so beautiful, so outrageously inappropriate for a sixteenth birthday pool party, and yet, Lydia rocked that dress, no one could tell her otherwise. It was what I loved about her. I smiled to myself while rotating the glass in my hand. There I go again, saying I loved her. I could get used to saying it, saying it all the time. I didn't care that she was crazy, and that once she found out, because she_ was_ going to find out, she'd hate me. I loved her. I was in love with her to the point of driving myself insane. She was in the middle of pouring more glasses, she really outdid herself with that punch, a large tin fountain sat on her snack table, the pink liquid cascading down like a waterfall. My head started to pound a bit, right above my right eye, and my mouth was dry, I surveyed my surroundings, looking for any bottles of water, Lydia hadn't laid any out. I walked into the house, I spotted her silky blue dress fanning out as she walked through the french doors, into her kitchen, if I remember correctly. I followed. I had to push passed the crowd of guests, complimenting the punch, encouraging each other to drink. Inside Lydia's home was a lot less stuffy, there were barely any people downstairs.

Lydia was in the kitchen, mumbling in a small voice to herself. Her hands gripped the island until her knuckles blushed white, her chest heaved, and her beautiful green eyes that haven't been the same in weeks were shut tight. It was like Lydia was trying to squeeze herself together.

"Lydia?" I mumbled, my arm extending, to touch her bare shoulder.

Her eyes snapped open before my hand reached. I jumped back. "Jesus!" I whispered.

"Stiles?" She asked, like she momentarily forgot who I was.

"Yeah, are you okay?" I asked quietly as two boys from chemistry walked passed us.

"Fine, of course." She smiled brilliantly. "It's my birthday. Everything is perfect."

I nodded, not at all believing her. She was on edge.

Lydia's eyes darted to the scattered cups everywhere. "Have you tried the punch?"

I raised my other arm, the one with the pink liquid sloshing around the glass.

She smiled and nodded. "Well, I really should be entertaining my guests."

I grabbed her arm before she could walk away from me. Maybe it was the alcohol but I was feeling a lot braver than normal. I sighed once her face fell a bit. My hand traveled down her soft arm and rested my palm in hers. She flinched slightly at the contact and I dragged her out of the kitchen and up the steps right outside its entrance. She followed without complaining. _Thank God._

We ended up in her room and I found myself looking around, not having been there since the beginning of the school year, when she was at the video store attack. I remembered being so worried about her, seeing her laying in bed so helpless and depending on anti depressants to calm her down when her boyfriend wanted nothing to do with it. I knew I loved her then, even though she called me Jackson, wished for him and got me instead, I loved her. She had needed someone and I was there, just like I was here now for her. I would _always_ be here for her. She sat at the edge of her bed, her hands in her lap. She wasn't looking at me and the strawberry blonde strains fell into her face, covering her expression from view. I sat next to her, matching her posture with my own.

"Are you really okay, Lydia?" I mumbled. I could faintly hear the music from outside.

She nodded but wouldn't look up. I groaned, letting a hand swipe through my hair.

She looked up at me. "Why do you care so much?"

"Because, Lydia, you're my friend." I shrugged.

"I'm horrible to you. You don't want me as a friend."

"You're right." I laughed. "I want you as my girlfriend."

Lydia looked surprised. So was I. I looked down at the cup in my hand, this stuff was gonna get me killed.

"I'm a mess Stiles. You don't deserve to be brought down."

I pushed some of her hair out of the way. "Are you kidding me? You have never been more beautiful, Lydia."

She rolled her eyes. "Stiles, you don't mean that. You don't know what you want."

"Yeah, I do Lydia. I have only ever loved you." I wanted to kick myself. Admitting it to myself, that was fine, admitting it to Scott was okay too, not like he ever listened to anything I said the first time anyway, but admitting that I was in love with Lydia Martin _to_ Lydia Martin was the dumbest thing I could have done. She was quiet. Her full lips parted, taking in a breath or two. She smiled, much to my surprise before looking down at my glass half full with that pink liquid and tugged it from my grip.

"How many of these did you have?" She asked, concerned. I knew she must have thought I was drunk, that I wouldn't have been saying this if I hadn't downed at least five glasses. But she was wrong.

I shrugged in a pathetic attempt to answer, not looking at her.

"Don't have anymore." Her voice was demanding and quiet.

"Okay." I mumbled back. I looked towards the window, spotting the present I got her sitting on the floor in front of it. I laughed. She looked up, placing my glass in the ground on the side of her bed.

"Wanna open it?"

"What?" She squeaked.

"The present? I'm actually really excited to see your reaction." I admitted.

Lydia licked her lips but smiled, nodding innocently.

I stood up and carried the large box to her bed, letting her eyes take in the mass of it.

"What is it?" She asked. I wasn't expecting her to even ask, just rip it open.

"Gotta open in to find out." I shrugged with a smile.

Lydia bit her lip and looked from me to the box three times before her sharp nails scratched through the red paper and began to tear it open before my eyes. I heard a laugh come from her throat, a very adorable and raw sound. I smiled as she placed her hands softly over the writing on the box, like she would break it if she wasn't gentle enough. Her lips parted again, remembering to breathe.

"Stiles, you didn't." She whispered.

"Do you like it?"

She gave me an expression that was obvious.

"Stiles, I cannot believe you! How did you even find one of these?"

I looked down at the large box that protected every little piece to the doll house she had wanted when we were nine. I remember her explaining it to me in our class, and how at her birthday party her dad was going to let her open it and make all the girls in our grade jealous. I remembered that look of complete and utter disappointment when she never opened it, because it was never there. Her parents were having another fight, and they were too caught up in their own mixed up problems they forgot about the only thing Lydia wanted. That look never left my mind, and I wanted to make her happy, since now she reminded me a lot of her nine year old self, crestfallen and isolated.

"It wasn't easy, believe me, Lydia." I smiled as she pushed all the wrapping paper away from the box, admiring it, smiling for the first time in a long time genuinely.

"Stiles.." She whispered again, shaking her head. "I could honestly kiss you right now."

She laughed while I stiffened. I could not have heard her correctly.

As if she could sense my confusion her eyes found mine. "Please, Stiles, it's a figure of speech."

I nodded, unsuccessfully attempting to hide my embarrassment.

"Lydia!" A voice called from behind her bedroom door, that made both of us jump.

"In a minute!" She yelled, sensing something was going wrong.

I stood and helped her up. She smiled gratefully.

"Listen, I am sorry about everything that is going on, and that you feel so alone, and feel like you're going crazy. But I just, I thought that if you had something that you always wanted-" I looked to the dollhouse on her bed. "-that you would have closure to that, and that it would give you faith in me that I will give you closure to this too, when I can." I licked my lips.

"Well, thanks again Stiles." She whispered after several moments with a shrug. She had been looking directly in my eyes, truth circling my iris' she had to have seen that.

She walked to the bedroom door, and sighed before turning the knob. "Screw it."

She mumbled, before running back to me and by pulling me down by my collar kissed me softly on the lips. It had lasted for literally a second but it left me stunned. She walked back to the door, leaving me stuck in my tracks. She smiled before her face became serious.

"Seriously Stiles, don't drink anymore punch." She frowned. I was barley listening.

She walked out, yelling absentmindedly over her shoulder, "Get out of my room!"

Oh yeah, I was _definitely_ in love with her.


End file.
